For Science
by IHaveNoSoul13
Summary: A one-shot concerning Crystal Kids (my next project for this site) that won't make a lot of sense until I publish Crystal Kids, and that's when I finish The Sick Captor (my current project). Enjoy.


Wrists bound to a table, my eyes open.

Where am I? What happened?

 _Get out of here._

I start fighting against the chains, breath quickening into gasps.

Someone, with a hand so slender it's like long cigarettes rolled up tight laying on a circle, grabs my chin with a soft movement, such a quick moment as well, and I go quiet and still, shutting my eyes and hoping it's all a dream.

"Heh, she chose a good 'un." The voice, clearing not belonging to the hand, is a loud and somewhat masculine – yet does it belong to a male, oh heavens no!

"Hm. I suppose she did." This voice belongs to the hand, and it's elegant yet has a hint of arrogance. "Still, he's just a _human_. She should have gotten one of those hybrids; that would have been even better."

 _Hybrids? Do they mean-_

"Eh. I don't care, as long as they put up a fight. And spew blood. I like human blood on my hands, reminds me of the war."

 _War? What are they going to do to me?_

"You were always a strange one." They leave quickly, and I only catch a glimpse of curly ginger orange and navy green to the shoulders walking beside each other before the figures disappear.

 _What were they talking about? A war? What are they going to do to me? What are they?_

 _I suppose the questions can be answered later… Later…_

 **(Line break)**

Eyes opening, I find my wrists are still bound. And, within the first few seconds my eyes are open, I realise…

 _I am not alone._

Different figures are in different positions.

The ginger girl, or woman, is holding a scalpel, one you use to cut things open, which could easily impale a sheet of A3 (the paper not making so much of a shudder), with a blade the size of an index finger, no kidding, and the blade a little longer.

The navy green one is watching her pretend to slice things, nose scrunched up in disgust, leaning against a wall with crossed arms.

Another one, with lime green atop her forehead, keeps glancing at me and then looking back at ginger woman, watching her with a giggle.

The last, with pitch black drowning her back to her hips, is the doorframe, shielded eyes settled on me, expression thoughtful but emotionless. She, and the others, are wearing gloves and she ties her hair up in a messy plait – navy green and lime green don't have to for they have short hair.

The scalpel is picked up by ginger as she comes, with discreet disgust navy green approaches, with a skip lime green dances over, with dramatic one-at-a-time footsteps pitch black treads toward me.

I realise their plans.

I do not dare suppress my scream.

 **(Line break)**

Have you ever been sliced open, blood drowning your body and dizzying your mind, and almost forced to watch them take objects and put them inside your heart, ignoring your cries of pain and your tears?

Then you have not known true fear, pain or relief.

When I was left alone, they'd taken off my chains so I could sit up and move around the room, after the ordeal, a wave of dizziness brought a wave of joy.

Ginger and another, a different one with marmalade orange, come in, check on me.

"You should have been there, he screamed so loud."

"I could already hear it. He's just a teenager – if he was a natural Gem, he'd be the equivalent to a new-born on Homeworld. If Gems were born."

Ginger shrugged to marmalade before looking in my eyes. "Well, it looks alive."

"I'm a 'he'!" I suddenly yell.

My voice isn't just a single voice.

It's ten different voices, all sounding different.

My own, male version of ginger, male version of marmalade, male version of navy green, male version of pitch black and presumably others.

Whoa.

Ginger squeals happily while marmalade gawks at me. "Oh my GOSH I- HE SOUNDS AWESOME! I HAVE TO TELL THE OTHERS!" She runs out the room, yelling different names.

Marmalade turns to watch after her. She turns half her body to look at me, regret in her eyes. "I'm so sorry." She whispers, so quietly she might as well not speak at all. She then leaves after ginger.

 _Sorry for what? I feel awesome!_

Nine of my voices start murmuring amongst themselves – out loud, so it's a little weird. Sometimes they say things at the same time.

My own voice stays quiet though, as one of my eyes shuts. The other, according to the window on the door, is flashing different colours, like black, green, brown, blue, etc. And that's only the natural colours!

My other one stays gingerbread brown.

I look at my hands, fair skinned, and then run a hand through my hair.

I lift a hand in front of me, like a girl checks her nail polish, and frown.

"You know you're not really normal, right?" One of them, not the male version of any of those who came into the room, says – I cross my arms as my eyes flash white and suddenly become blind for a split second.

"Oh be quiet, no one's really normal." Another voice, not familiar, says, and my hands dart from my chest to my hips as I roll my now ocean blue eyes.

There are voices of agreement and my eyes flash different colours and I pull different positions.

"You really didn't ask me for permission…" My own voice says, and I scratch my right shoulder with my left hand, eyes turning back to gingerbread brown.

"Well, you wouldn't give it anyway. Be proud, Subject 15445." Eyes flash spice orange, I shrug.

"True…" My own voice replies, face blushing wildly and eyes flashing gingerbread. "Why'd you call me Subject?"

"Please, you're not unique. I mean, you're the first one to have this done, but you aren't the first experiment."

I stand up, why am I struggling, and walk around the room, I am still struggling.

Navy green and marmalade come back and catch me as I fall over my own two feet, navy green holding me by the clothes and marmalade wraps her arms around me and hoists me back onto my metal table bed.

"Maybe you should rest. Get used to… yourself."

"Yeah," A voice says, the male version of marmalade's, my eyes going ginger orange. "Sounds like a plan."

And as I drift off, they leave.

 **(Line break)**

A war machine.

That's what I am.

Not that I care – ginger's a war machine, created during one to fight, made her the way she is.

I'm fighting, what else would you expect, the voices in my head screaming. I'm also yelling out what they say in their voices.

Impression Master is I.

Garnet is pushed back as I grow another pair of arms to grab her neck and throw her into the hybrids. She groans, squashing a fellow experiment underneath her elbow, and, upon hearing his chokes, jumps back up, forms a gauntlet and hits me in the chest.

"Ha!" I exclaim, not a single mark – I've ten different beings, one of which having the ability to heal itself – on my body, as fabulous it may be. "You see this Garnet?" I yell in my own voice as the others laugh behind it. "I don't have to act like I don't feel pain!"

"All right, you're getting really annoying!"

"Good."

 ***End of one-shot***

A/N: Guess who that was.

It's kind of a filler for a really important scene for Crystal Kids, but that isn't going to be up for a while. :/

So yeah, hope you enjoyed.


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